


Two Halves, One Whole

by IreneADonovan



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Disabled Character, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles You Will Be Drunk, Charles in a Wheelchair, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Erik is not a Happy Bunny, M/M, Romantic Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 20:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10670475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneADonovan/pseuds/IreneADonovan
Summary: Charles and Erik meet in college and become best friends despite arguing about everything under the sun. Then Erik realizes he's fallen for Charles, though he's sure his feelings aren't reciprocated. But they are.Angst and romance and Raven trying to play matchmaker...





	Two Halves, One Whole

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kitmerlot1213](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitmerlot1213/gifts).



> For kitmerlot1213, who won one of my Easter eggs. She asked for angst and romance and misunderstandings in a high school or college au. This was the result.
> 
> Also, I know little about Columbia. The images in my head are drawn mainly from the University of Arizona as it was a number of years ago. I claim creative license.

Charles Xavier was an open book. Erik Lehnsherr was a cipher.

Charles shone brighter than the sun. Erik loomed dark and forbidding as a black hole.

Charles blended in seamlessly with the world around him. Erik wore his differences like a badge.

And yet neither man was what he seemed. Charles drew people in, but only so far. Erik pushed people away, but longed for someone to come close.

They met at Columbia. Erik was halfway through a degree in metallurgy. Charles, though barely nineteen, was starting a master's in genetics. Different worlds. Yet their paths had crossed easily.

Erik had been cutting through one of the lounges at the student union, intent on grabbing something to eat before hitting the library, when a voice commanded his attention. Soft yet strong, with an unmistakably English accent, talking about the genetics of mutation.

Erik halted mid-stride, then turned toward the voice. He couldn't see the speaker – the large knot of students listening to his every word concealed him. He edged closer.

The speaker was clearly knowledgeable about the reasons mutants existed, but he was also quite wrong-headed about the capacity of so-called “normal” humans to accept them. Erik edged closer to the group.

The speaker continued for almost half an hour, taking questions from the group. Erik wormed his way into the fringes of the crowd, wanting to see who this man was, wanting to confront him about his beliefs.

But before he could get close enough, the man announced, “I'm sorry, but I have to cut this short. I'm meeting my sister for dinner.” A lame excuse, but the crowd began to disperse.

Erik stood his ground and was rewarded by the sight of an absolutely gorgeous young man reclining on a couch, his back against the arm. A mop of dark waves tumbled to his shoulders. Eyes the color of a summer sky. Lips like fresh berries. Compact body. Muscular chest only partially concealed by a blue button-down.

“Do I know you?” Those blue eyes appraised him.

“I heard you talking and got curious.”

Those eyes continued to study him. “Why do I get the feeling you don't like what you heard.”

“Because I don't. You clearly know your shit on the science, but humans will never accept mutants.” Erik threw down the gauntlet, consequences be damned.

One dark brow rose and those crimson lips turned upward just a hair. “What makes you so certain of that?”

“Humans never accept anyone different.”

“I think never is a bit strong,” the man said, then he nodded at one of the overstuffed chairs. “Why don't you have a seat and we'll talk about it.”

Erik smirked. “I thought you had to go.”

“I really am meeting my sister, but not for a bit yet. I chased everyone away because I needed a little peace and quiet first.”

“You won't get that if I stay.” _Smooth move, Lehnsherr. You meet a hot guy, and you're giving him excuses to not talk to you._

“I assure you that one mind, even an argumentative one, is far easier to tune out than twenty-three.”

“You're a telepath,” Erik said.

“Yes.”

“Stay the fuck out of my mind,”

The telepath rolled his eyes. “Why does everyone presume that telepaths go poking about in other people's minds just for kicks?”

“Maybe because I know one, and she does.”

Those lush lips thinned. “Let me guess – Emma Frost.”

“You know her.”

“I know _of_ her.” He gestured at the chair. “I assure you I'm nothing like her. Have a seat. I'm Charles Xavier, by the way.”

Erik dropped his backpack on the coffee table and perched on the arm of the chair. “Erik Lehnsherr.”

Charles gazed at the backpack and the items pinned to it – a small Star of David and buttons that said “Mutant and Proud” and “Out and Proud” – then smiled. “You certainly don't believe in hiding who you are.”

“What you see is what you get.”

Another of those appraising stares. “I highly doubt that.”

Erik said nothing.

Charles pressed on undeterred. “So what makes you so sure humans won't accept us?”

“History. Bosnia. Rwanda. The Holocaust.”

“So you don't think humans can change.”

“Not enough of them. Not fast enough.” Erik might have said more, but a phone started going off nearby.

Charles' phone, evidently, as he swore under his breath. “That'll be my sister, either to cancel or say she'll be late.” He sighed. “I suppose I'd better get that.” His next move surprised Erik a bit, as he used his hands to move his legs off the couch, then reached over the couch arm and pulled a wheelchair forward.

So that explained the unfamiliar metal that had been pinging the edges of his awareness. He'd been too focused on Charles to analyze it.

Charles retrieved his phone and glanced at the display. “Raven,” he said. The phone chimed with a text, and he scanned it. “She's cancelling.” He looked up at Erik. “I don't suppose you'd be willing to continue our discussion over dinner?”

“I was on my way to grab some food when I heard you.”

Charles pulled himself into the wheelchair, tugged his legs into place. “There's a good deli just south of campus, if you don't mind a bit of a walk.”

“I know it,” Erik said. “Sounds good.”

They spent hours arguing that night, and not just about mutant politics. They argued about everything, from pineapple on pizza (Erik hated it) to heavy metal music (how could Erik not like it). And so began the pattern and the friendship that endured for the next eighteen months, until the day Erik realized he'd fallen in love with his best friend.

His straight best friend.

**~xXx~**

They were playing chess, both so focused on the game that they weren't even arguing. Charles held the rook he'd captured from Erik in one hand, fingering it absently as he studied the board, sky-blue eyes hooded in concentration. Then he'd placed the rook against those too-red lips, and Erik's mouth had gone dry.

He'd always thought Charles attractive, but he knew Charles only had eyes for the opposite sex. It wasn't like Erik was so desperate that he had to try to seduce a straight guy. There were plenty of guys out there who wanted to date him, just as many who'd be game for a casual fuck.

But as he watched those sinful lips caress that rook, Erik realized that it had been _months_ since any other man had interested him in the slightest. He wanted Charles Xavier, and only Charles Xavier.

Well, shit. He was well and truly screwed.

No, that's what he'd like to be, his traitorous mind suggested. By Charles. And that was so not going to happen.

Erik forced his mind back to the game just as Charles moved a bishop.

His concentration hopelessly blown, Erik made the obvious move and captured the bishop with his remaining knight. Those lips quirked into the slightest of smiles, and Erik knew he'd fallen into Charles' trap. In more ways than one.

The game devolved quickly from there. Charles had him mated in seven more moves. “I'd say good game,” Charles said, “but you seem a little distracted today.”

“It's nothing,” Erik lied, glad Charles wasn't the type to go snooping in his mind.

Charles regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. You'll still be able to make it tonight, then?”

Charles and Raven's party. Fuck. Erik knew that, after his little revelation, going was far from the wisest decision. But he also knew he couldn't possibly disappoint Charles, that he would always do anything Charles asked or needed of him, no matter how much it might hurt to be near him. “I'll be there,” he promised.

**~xXx~**

“How did I ever let you talk me into this?” Charles surveyed the tables laden with food and drink, considered the crowd coming to consume them, and shuddered inwardly. Blocking out that many minds was a challenge at the best of times. Blocking out that many alcohol-lubricated minds was infinitely worse.

“You'll have a great time, and you know it,” Raven retorted. “Let your hair down.” She tugged at one of his shoulder-length locks. “Metaphorically, anyway.”

He swatted at her fingers. “You're incorrigible.”

She grinned. “And that's what you love about me.”

He caught her hand, reeled her in for a hug. “Somebody has to put up with you.”

“You and Irene.” She wriggled free, laughing. “So when are you going to hook up with someone?”

“Don't go there.” He loved Raven, but she could be clueless sometimes.

“Why not? You, my dear brother, are a prize catch.”

If only. “We'll need more ice,” he said, turning away abruptly.

The guests started arriving before Raven returned from the ice run, mostly Raven's friends at first, and the strain of playing the charming host to people he barely knew was fast giving him a headache. It got a little better when Hank showed up, followed by Darwin, but he found himself scanning the crowd, waiting for Erik.

When he was with Erik, he could tune out the world with ease. In the meantime, he'd have to resort to other measures. So once Raven returned, he excused himself, snared a bottle of wine from the table, and wheeled himself out onto the balcony.

The noise level dropped by half. The psychic noise by maybe a third. Whatever. He'd take it. He poured a glass of wine, drained it, poured another, sipped it.

Footsteps behind him. “Charles?”

“Hank.”

“Are you all right?”

“I'm fine,” he insisted. “Just too many people, too many minds. I had to get away for a minute.”

“I'll leave you then. Should I send Erik out if I see him?”

“Please do.”

Hank withdrew, and Charles finished his second glass of wine and poured a third. The alcohol was just barely beginning its work of smoothing his jangled nerves, dulling the insistent press of other minds. Some days he just got so bloody tired of holding the world at bay. And Raven wondered why he was alone.

Okay, it was more than that, but it was that, too.

He massaged the back of his neck and considered the wisdom of getting really drunk tonight.

“Headache?” Erik's voice, low and soothing.

“Yeah.”

Erik came up behind him; his hands hovered over Charles' shoulders. “May I.”

Charles knew “no” was probably the wisest answer. The last thing he needed tonight was Erik touching him. “Yes.”

Erik's fingers pressed along the sides of Charles' neck, gently at first, then working deep into the knotted muscles. His thumbs found the sore spots at the base of Charles' skull, dug into them, and Charles couldn't quite stifle a wince.

Erik's hands stilled. “Too much?”

“Don't stop. Please don't stop.”

Erik's hands slid into his hair, massaging his scalp. His fingers were ridiculously long and strong, able to all-but-encircle Charles' skull. Charles leaned back against Erik's washboard stomach, letting himself drift in mindless pleasure.

Erik moved on to his brow, then his cheeks and jaw, before finally letting his hands drift back to Charles' shoulders. “Better?” He asked.

“Much.” Charles didn't move, drinking in the sensation of Erik's body so close to his.

“You going to share that wine?”

“Sure. But I only brought one glass.”

“I'll be right back, then.” One last quick squeeze of his shoulders and the contact was broken.

The loss was so profound he almost wanted to cry. He tossed back the rest of his wine, then poured more, wondering just exactly when he'd fallen for his best friend. The best friend who didn't see him as anything more.

No one ever saw him as he truly was. They saw the gregarious, affable façade he presented to the world, not the lonely man it concealed. Not even Raven knew who he truly was, not anymore.

No one ever saw the man, just the man. Many saw only the man in the chair, the man who was somehow less than he had been. Many others saw only the telepath, the mind-reader, the man who knew too much. And it seemed that no one could look past both.

He could see the Venn diagram in his head, two circles just barely kissing at the edge, the overlap infinitesimally small. And Erik standing firmly with those who couldn't accept his telepathy, Erik, who still refused Charles access to his mind. Erik, who Charles loved anyway.

Erik returned then, pulling him from his reverie. “Sorry. Got waylaid by Darwin.”

He took the bottle from Charles, filled his glass, drained it, repeated. Still holding the bottle, he took a seat on the balcony wall, the lights of the city silhouetting his lanky frame, then filled his glass a third time.

Erik rarely drank much. “What are you doing?” Charles asked.

“Getting drunk.”

Charles held out his once-again-empty glass. “I think I'll join you.”

**~xXx~**

They were into their second bottle, both pleasantly lit but not nearly smashed. Erik proved to be a surprisingly happy drunk, laughing at Charles' inane stories like they were brilliant.

Charles, on the other hand, was slowly but steadily losing his grip on his cheery persona. And thus it was that he asked Erik the most dangerous question of all. “Why the hell don't you have a boyfriend?”

Erik burst out laughing. “Since when did you give a fuck who I fuck?”

“Since now, I guess.” Since forever.

Erik stared at his half-full glass, emptied it. “Because I'm in love with a straight guy. He doesn't even have a clue.”

“I'm sure he knows more than you think.” Charles' heart was breaking and he was well into a gloomy drunk, but he still had to support his friend.

Erik shook his head, poured more wine. “No. Totally clueless. Known him for a while, and he's a total girl-magnet. Not even a blip on the gaydar.”

“You're sure? He might be more receptive than you think.” _I know I would be._

Erik considered. “Pretty sure.”

“Would he be offended?”

“Probably not.”

“Then you should tell him. Better yet, you should kiss him.”

Erik quirked an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah.”

Before Charles could register what was about to happen, Erik rose and closed the small distance between them. One long-fingered hand tilted Charles' head back, then he pressed his lips to Charles'.

Oh. _Oh._ Charles' hands grasped at Erik's shirt as he leaned up into the kiss. It was as good as he'd dreamed, though he hadn't imagined being quite so drunk. And then he realized he wasn't nearly drunk enough. Erik might love him, but he still didn't accept all of who he was. And Charles couldn't accept that.

He dragged his lips away from Erik's. “I can't do this, not like this, not when you reject who I am.”

Erik looked baffled, and as bereft as Charles felt. “Reject you. I've never rejected you.”

“You have. And until you accept all of me, this goes no further.” With that Charles turned and left the balcony.

**~xXx~**

Erik had fucked up. He wasn't sure exactly how, but he knew he had. Instead of holding Charles in his arms, he was sitting alone on the balcony, a half-empty bottle of wine in his hand. He took a swig straight from the bottle and let loose a string of curses in every language he could think of.

He was still there, though the bottle was long since emptied, when Raven came to chase him inside. “Party's over,” she announced, annoyingly cheerful.

Erik gazed at her bleakly and didn't move.

“Who kicked your puppy?” she asked.

“Your brother.”

“The two of you were arguing again?”

“Not an argument. I kissed him. And it was _good_.”

“Not getting the problem here.”

“He kissed me back. Then he pushed me away. Said I didn't _accept_ him. Do you know what he means?”

She sighed. “No. But I'll talk to him once he's sobered up. Now come on. I'll call you a cab.”

**~xXx~**

Mornings sucked. Mornings with a hangover sucked even worse. By the time Charles dragged himself through his morning routine, it was very nearly not morning anymore. But the shower had mostly revived him, and he was ready to face the world again.

Raven was curled up on the couch, waiting for him to emerge. Most of the party detritus had been cleared away, and he knew he would owe her big time for that. He'd gotten drunk and abandoned her and his responsibilities as host, and he knew she wouldn't let him forget about it anytime soon.

Her golden eyes appraised him. “Spill,” she said.

“Pardon?”

“You kissed Erik, then left him on the balcony. Spill.”

“Nothing more to it, really.”

“Bullshit. Erik was practically crying – first time I've ever seen him any way other than pissed off. Said you told him he didn't _accept_ you.”

Charles groaned. He so didn't want to have this conversation. “I did, and he doesn't.”

“He was pretty baffled.”

“And if I explain to you, you'll turn around and text him the answer.”

Raven didn't deny it.

“He needs to figure it out for himself.”

**~xXx~**

Erik stared gloomily at Raven's text. She hadn't been able to get Charles to explain. And he was still totally clueless.

His roommate, Alex, poured him a cup of coffee. “You look like shit, man.”

He felt like it, too.

“Guess the party didn't go so well.”

“It was okay, until it wasn't.”

Alex refilled his own coffee, snagged a chair and sat on it backwards, leaning forward against the back. “Dude, you gotta give me more than that.”

Erik slumped into the other kitchen chair. “I kissed Charles.” It had been the best moment of his life when Charles had kissed him back; the worst, when Charles had then pushed him away.

Alex's blue eyes went wide. “No way. Did he freak out?”

“No. He kissed me back. And then he freaked out Said I rejected him, and that I needed to accept all of him before he'd kiss me again.”

Alex frowned. “He was okay with the kissing, though. That's something.”

“Not much.”

“Still, why would he say you rejected him? It can't be because of the chair.”

Erik scowled, shook his head. “That's never been an issue.”

Alex fell silent, sipping his coffee and thinking. Then his face lit with understanding and his gaze locked with Erik's. “Of course. He's a telepath.”

“I know he's a telepath. So what?”

“You don't trust telepaths, not since Ice Queen Frost took a look inside your head.”

Erik recognized the uncomfortable truth in those words.

“You've never let him inside your mind, have you?”

Erik didn't bother to answer. He slammed his cup down on the counter on his way to the front door.

**~xXx~**

Charles was surprised when the doorbell rang, more surprised to find Erik on the other side.

“Read my mind,” Erik said.

“What?”

“That's what you meant, isn't it? That it's your telepathy I reject. So read my mind.”

“Erik--”

“Please.”

Charles nodded. “Okay.” He concentrated, skimmed the surface of Erik's mind, felt an urgent need to fix things between the two of them, overlaid by nervousness, both at opening himself up and that Charles would still reject him. But as Charles sank deeper, he felt trust, the surety that Charles would not hurt him, and an overwhelming love.

_I love you, too, Erik._

Erik kissed him and he felt a surge of need and lust intertwine with the love. _Bedroom,_ Erik thought.

Charles hesitated, needing to make sure they were now on the same page in every way. _You know things work a little differently for me, right?_

_But you'll still enjoy it?_

_Yes. It's still good._ And it was. It would be.

Everything would be good now. They had each other.


End file.
